


The Queen Estate

by OlicitySmoaky



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8484874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlicitySmoaky/pseuds/OlicitySmoaky
Summary: **Felicity Smoak cursed the gravel beneath her feet as she slogged up the road to the Queen estate, a place she never wanted to come back to.  The only good thing about returning to the palatial mansion was that it gave her a break from Billy. The foolish wide-eyed boy wanted desperately to marry her, but at twenty-one Felicity wasn't ready for commitment. She hadn't tasted the world yet. The Queen estate wasn't exactly what she had in mind when she told her friends she planned to explore it before putting down roots, but it was a piece of her past that she had never faced. She returned to Queen that day with a heavy heart, an empty stomach and a pound of fear in her chest.**(An AU 1920s, Olicity fic)





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

> So this is from something else that was not a fic. I'm using Olicity to work through it. I just want to see if I can get it done. It might be really bad or boring to you. HOPE NOT! Hope you like it in fact.

Felicity Smoak cursed the gravel beneath her feet as she slogged up the road to the Queen estate, a place she never wanted to come back to.  The only good thing about returning to the palatial mansion was that it gave her a break from Billy. The foolish wide-eyed boy wanted desperately to marry her, but at twenty-one Felicity wasn't ready for commitment. She hadn't tasted the world yet. The Queen estate wasn't exactly what she had in mind when she told her friends she planned to explore it before putting down roots, but it was a piece of her past that she had never faced. She returned to Queen that day with a heavy heart, an empty stomach and a pound of fear in her chest.

Felicity looked up at the brooding billion dollar Tudor estate, stuffed her white gloves into the pockets of her new overcoat then filled her lungs with conviction.  She passed a Gold Bug Speedster sitting nose to nose with a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost, a far cry from the 1910 Overland Old Man Queen used to keep.  It had been over fifteen years since she'd left. She was returning to the deep dark underbelly of the rich. Her grandmother, Queen’s oldest resident and most loyal employee, was ill, and Felicity was all the old woman had left.  So, she left the small village where she lived with her distant cousins and her good friends to come upon her grandmother’s wish to spend the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays with her. 

Felicity’s eyes burned as she stepped onto the porch. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to be there.  As her nose chilled from a sudden whip of crisp air, a  sob crawled into her throat.  Images of her mother and father filled her brain. She needed to leave. But she couldn’t. This was more than just a visit with her grandmother. After telling everyone at the newspaper of her plans, Felicity’s boss decided she could only have time off in exchange for getting an exclusive piece on _him—_ the brooding reclusive Oliver Queen, son of the now deceased international banking magnate, Robert Queen. She’d seen a likeness of Oliver two years ago. He looked nothing like the boy of fourteen she’d once known – chiseled jaw and penetrating blue eyes _._ He was very – male and very rich. People wanted to know about him.  As far as anyone knew he’d had been with several women but had never been officially engaged and certainly not married. The young bachelor’s business affairs were handled by the men who’d worked with his father and trusted associates. What he did with his time remained a mystery to inquisitive minds of the outside world. That was where she came in. If Felicity delivered an exposé on Oliver Queen, she’d be made a staff writer, something unheard of for a woman at the East Haven Star.  Not that Felicity was interested in making milestones.  She just wanted to tell real, truthful stories.  And if this was her in, so be it. The problem was that the Queens sickened her. They swam in money and didn’t seem to care about the feelings of those who didn’t have as much of it. At least, that had been the conclusion she’d come to as a child.

Felicity had lived at the Queen estate until she was eight and her mother, a kitchen maid, died. Her mother had grown up, worked and lived and died before the age of thirty between its walls. Her father, a chauffeur who always spoke of a better life for Felicity and encouraged her to read at a very young age died the year before her mother.  Felicity blamed the Queens for sucking the lives out of her parents and giving little to nothing in return.  And now her grandmother was dying after a lifetime of servitude in their name.  Felicity had not wanted to leave her grandmother as a child. Unfortunately, that choice had not been hers to make.  Her grandmother was the Queen’s housekeeper and could not fathom leaving the wealthy family. Her loyalty and devotion to them had become second nature.  The round-cheeked woman could not conceive of leaving her life’s work, but still wanted to make sure Felicity had a chance to flourish outside of her limited world.  She made the most of the life she’d been given with her cousins and worked to make her grandmother proud.

Felicity took a deep breath as she looked up at the wide green double doors. But when she finally mustered the courage to knock, she couldn’t make herself do it. She’d never gone through the front of the house before. It wasn’t as if she thought she was beneath the Queens. On the contrary, she thought she was every bit as good as and far more decent than any Queen she’d ever met.  It was just that going around back made her feel worlds more comfortable, and that’s just what she did.

***

Felicity pushed through the back kitchen door then dropped her bags on the floor.  She tuned her ears for any signs of life – not a peep, rustle, or murmur. Memories seized her as she took in the kitchen where her mother had worked, where she spent so much time as a child. Modernity had taken up residence with appliances she’d only seen advertised in publications like the newspaper she worked for.  It was strange this blend of what she remembered and what was.

Felicity stepped a few paces inside, recalling her grandmother’s room, the largest of the servants’ quarters, was just off the nook beyond the kitchen. She made her way there and knocked on the door.  When Inside, she found a woman much smaller than she remembered lying under neatly pressed white sheets.  A smile played across the old woman’s soft worn visage.  Too weak to do much talking, Felicity’s grandmother seemed content just to look at her for a long while, holding her hand.  She fell asleep.

Felicity moved out of her grandmother’s room and then soon found her bags were no longer in the kitchen.  She went to investigate, and that’s when she saw him, Oliver Queen. The twenty-eight-year-old son of a titan took up three-quarters of the door frame between the kitchen and the hall leading to the main part of the house. He wore his dark blonde hair longer than most, a choice that mirrored her own rebellion against the norm of the day – at least for her type of girl. The modern woman wore bobs, but Felicity, left her hair to grow, so when the occasion called for it, she could release it in the wind. Oliver’s hair was cut close to his head, and he wore something that fell between a small beard and five o’clock shadow. Her heart flipped.  He reminded her of a well-manicured, perfectly polished Viking with his own purposeful bit of scruff. He was beautiful.

Felicity had to summon the gods and ask them to help her to breathe. His blue eyes flickered with a combination of calm, curiosity, and certainty.  He was an imposing man with the most gorgeous face she’d ever seen. Felicity had no idea how she was going to keep up hating a man who looked like that, but she had to try. She was a girl, no _woman_ , of principle.

***

Oliver Queen did not like disruptions, and Felicity Smoak, a servant's child turned fledgling journalist had proven to be just that. Not that she’d made much noise or bothered speaking to him after their first meeting in the kitchen. Not that he had anything in particular going on to be distracted from either. But the pink lipped girl’s presence had uninvitingly begun to intoxicate him.

It all started when he invited Felicity to dine with him her first night, he did it in spite of rules, it was his house, he could do what he wanted – then she turned him down. He didn’t want to dwell on it too much, but he had little to do these days now that his business dealings with Malcolm and Tommy Merlyn were over. He was also growing weary of bachelorhood. Felicity was a welcome distraction from the constant women who threw themselves at him. They were all various versions of the same clone. But not Felicity. She was different.

Three days passed with only nods hello on occasion passing each other in the hall. She’d been put up in a room in the north wing. Oliver’s quarters were in the south. And now he was watching her walk the grounds in the distance. Her delicate features, full lips pink and perfect, were fanned by the long blonde hair whipping over her face. She wasn’t like anyone he’d seen. For one, she was a modern woman in every right, but she wore her hair long and loose unlike other women who’d taken up that position amidst the new era of jazz, booze and equality.

“Do you play pool?” asked Oliver as they finally shared their first meal in his dining room. He’d gotten her to agree to sit with him that night.  Why he was putting so much effort into her, he did not know.

***

 “I don’t believe in gambling,” Felicity said in a clipped tone.

“Fiesty for one so young.”

“I’m twenty-one.”

“Well, my apologies,” he said, laughing.

“For what?”

“For complimenting you. You don’t seem to like it much.”

“No one likes empty compliments.”

“Such a mouth on you,” he said with a smooth chuckle.

Felicity did not like his tone. “Don’t talk to me like that,” she said, folding her arms.

Oliver looked at her for a long time without speaking, his gaze burning into her. “Like what?”

She cleared her throat, her pulse quickening, something she tried hard to ignore. “Like a servant. Like a child. Like you probably treat everyone.”

Oliver laughed. “Well, I don’t see any reason to give you special treatment. Isn’t that what you don’t like about me? I heard you tell your grandmother.”

Felicity was not buying his act. “You exploit her and make her work for wages less than a pig deserves.”

“If that’s what you think of your grandmother, that she’s a pig. There’s nothing I can do about that.”

The tension in the room licked heat along her body. “You’re the pig. “

The butler came in to serve. Felicity threw her napkin on the table. “I’m thinking about losing my appetite.”

“Oh, be nice, _Felicity_.”

Felicity pushed her chair away, unnerved by the way he'd said her name. “Yes. It’s decided.” She got up and walked away, but Oliver stood and curled his fingers around her wrist before she could bolt.

“You think you don’t like me, but let me show you something first before your judge me completely.”

Felicity stared down at the hand gripping her then up at him. “Don’t touch me.”

To her surprise, he turned red and dropped her arm immediately.  “I apologize. I just wanted to show you something.”

She hesitated but did not move in the way her feet begged her to. 

“It’s in the library,” he told her.

She gasped. The library was the only place in the house she’d ever wanted to go in and had never gotten the chance.  When Oliver’s  parents’ ran the estate no children were allowed. But since his parents had passed, this house seemed to grow into a lonely bachelor’s den rather than the house of pretense and rigidity she remembered. Sad, that a cold bachelor’s hideout seemed a lot warmer than a house full of people. 

They arrived in the library. Oliver took down a book and handed it to her.  She opened it.  _The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland._   It was her old copy, the one her grandmother had given to her mother and her mother had passed to her before she died.  “Your grandmother asked me to save it for you in here.”

“Thanks, but I don’t read books like this any more. I’m not one for sentiment.”

“Well, I can take it back. It means a lot to me.”

“Why’s that?”

“Your grandmother’s taken care of me my whole life. Why wouldn’t I care about the things that are important to her?”

He looked down at Felicity, chest visibily pumping air.  Something inside of his eyes caused a stir in places she’d never allowed herself to explore.  In fact, she wouldn’t even let her last and only boyfriend Billy do anything beyond short kisses and hand holding. She believed this showed respect for her, and also that Billy had to wait until he was ready to ask her to marry him.  But with Oliver it was different already. It was as if rules and propriety might quickly fly out of the window, and damned if she cared right at this moment. The back of Oliver’s hand brushed her cheek, and this time it was her chest working overtime.

“You’re so soft.” He cupped her cheek then brushed his thumb back and forth over her skin.  Then as if zapped into a vortex, he bent down and lightly kissed her.  He looked into her eyes, searching for something, but she had no idea if he found it or if it was there at all. Still, he kissed her, thoroughly and longer than she ever had been kissed. Her heart raced, her nerves stood on end, she felt wild and impulsive, but that would never do, not with him, the Oliver Queen monster—a term she’d dubbed him as a child. But was this man a monster. There was no way her brain could believe that—not with the way his mouth was softly moving over hers, not with the way his stubble was scratching the skin around her lips. If Oliver Queen was a monster, she wanted to move into his lair. Wait a minute. She already had. With a sigh, she opened her mouth to him and lost herself further in his kiss.

And then he was stopping and pulling away slightly out of breath, “I’m so sorry. It was an instinct.”

She did not know what to say.

“Your grandmother told me you wanted to write an article on me.”

“Yes,” she squeaked.

Oliver nodded. “Great. I’ll help you in the morning. Agreed?”

“Yes! Thank you,” she said before rushing out of the library and back to her room. What had just happened? Oliver Queen kissed her, and she loved every minute of it, that was what. Damn him. And damn her for letting him do it. But it couldn’t happen again. No. Never again. Why was that again? “Your job. Your reputation. Everything you believe in is the absolute opposite of Oliver Queen.” Wasn’t it?


	2. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has a cool setting for me, but I think the plot is going to be pretty light... It'll get smutty soon then obviously there will be a little angst lol...but mostly, it'll just be a simple story. Hope you like it!

After having breakfast with her grandmother the next morning, Felicity set up in the library, typewriter at the ready for her interview with Oliver.  Her intention was to get all she could for her story while at the very same time pretending as if that kiss had never happened. Theirs would be a professional relationship. Nothing more.

Felicity adjusted the mechanisms of her typewriter to her liking – something she was particularly adept at given that she’d built her typewriter herself – when Oliver stumbled into the room sweating in his tennis gear. Her eyes widened. Did he have to look so goregous. Felicity didn’t think she’d ever seen such a beauitful man. Her eyes traveled up his muscular legs, skipping the area she knew to be improper and scanned up his heaving chest. She resisted licking her lips.

“You find everything to your liking?” Oliver said, innuendo lacing his tone.

“Excuse me?”

“The room. Is it suitable?”

Felicity fought a blush. He was going to drive her insane. He was playing with her, and she didn’t like it. “Yes, thank you.”

“So, you ready to get started?”

Felicity lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to change first?”

“You think I need to change?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of water from the pitcher that sat on a nearby table with fresh cut lemon and a bucket of ice beside it. He took a giant gulp.

“For one thing, you’re plugging up my nose.”

He chuckled. “Sorry about that.”

Felicity gritted her teeth as he paced up the room the down it until to her pleasant surprise, he ducked out. “Back in a bit.”

When Oliver returned wearing a collared shirt and slacks, Felicity, guard still high and strong, cursed at the way he looked yet again. She was just going to have deal with the fact that he made her blood boil in spite of herself. After a while, she noticed a few things about the playboy that she never had before. For example, when he told a story about his family, he spoke softly. But when he talked about taking over his father’s business, his voice got tight. He lit up when he talked about collecting cars and, to her surprise, cooking. He confessed that over a lunch of chicken salad sandwiches and lemonade. This was the only time Felicity actually moved from behind the desk and typewriter.        

By the time night blanketed the sky, they were laughing together, and enjoying each other’s company more than Felicity thought possible. Felicity was back behind her type writer, while Oliver sat on the sofa across the room, arms stretched across the back of the sofa. “So, you have enough for your article?” Oliver asked, after finishing up a story about his time on the Rivera with his friend Tommy and the Princess of Sweden. This story hadn’t been a particular favorite of hers, though he insisted that the princess had been more interested in Tommy than she was in Oliver. Felicity found that extremely hard to believe.

“I think so. Thank you. I guess, I’ll head up to my room now.”

She stood and started to gather her things.

“Don’t go.” Felicity looked up, his eyes searched hers as if he were trying to figure out a very confusing puzzle. “I, would you like to stay for dinner with me?”

“Oh, no. I’ll just find myself something in the kitchen. I think it’ll be better that way, don’t you?”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, no matter how nice all of this was, and how nice you’ve been…which I have to say has been a pleasant surprise, we are who we are, Oliver. There’s no changing that.”

“I wouldn’t want to change that.”

He stepped across the room. Before she could stop him, he picked up her hand and led her around the desk to the center of the room.

“I had a wonderful time today.”

Felicity cleared her throat. “Um, so did I. Thank you for helping me with my article.”

“Well, I’d like to spend more time with you, if you’ll let me.”

“Oliver—“

“Please, Felicity?”

Then finally he looked at her in that way again, the way he’d looked at her in the library the night before, but this time she wasn’t afraid. This time, she let him kiss her, long and languidly.  His lips were soft and curious at first, then slowly she opened her mouth to him. He groaned and drew her closer. He tasted like lemonade and something so very masculine, it made her toes curl. Then she was pushing back from him for breath. “Oliver…” Their foreheads rested together, breath mingling together.

Oliver stood to full height after dropping a short kiss to her cheek. “To prove to you I’m not a snob who can’t do anything on my own. I’ll make you dinner. Whatever you like. What’s your favorite dish?”

She couldn't help but smile. He really wanted to try for her. How could she refuse something like that? He stood there looking like an expectant puppy. She pushed down the laugh that threatened to bubble from her chest.

“Felicity? Whatever you like.”

“Oh.” She tapped her chin in thought. She could suggest a deeply difficult dish, at which point she would know he did not cook it himself. She could ask for something simple like eggs, but then he might think she was belittling his abilities due to his station in life. “Surprise me."

He grinned. "All right."

 "What time should I come?”

He smirked at the comment, and she wondered why.  He pressed his lips together, then took her hand and kissed the back of it. Her heart fluttered. She wasn’t going to get too ahead of herself. For now, she would just going to enjoy his company and those gorgeous eyes.  “Eight.”

“You promise you won’t try to poison me?”

“Ye, have little faith,” he said on a chuckle.

Oliver promised to have her things sent up to her so she wouldn’t have to carry them. She smiled gratefully and headed for the door. “All right then, I’ll check on my grandmother and see you later.”

“See you,” he said in a voice even softer than the one he used to tell stories; a voice that perhaps was the voice of the real Oliver Queen. Felicity wondered if anyone else had ever heard it. For some reason, she thought, as she headed for the servants’ quarters to see her grandmother, that she might have been the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, would you still like to read more? I'm pretty sure it's going to get hot and heavy pretty fast lol. It seems like it's a bit of a rush for them....but sometimes these things just happen. ;)


	3. Summer Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity's relationship blossoms.

 Weeks passed, and Oliver and Felicity fell into a peaceful sort of friendship. He gave her first riding lesson, and she became quite good very quickly. Then, he surprised her by showing her his favorite sport: archery.  After she’d finished her piece on him, she’d delayed sending anything to her editor. “I’m still researching,” Oliver heard her telling him over the phone. She wanted to stay with him. He tried not to let the idea of it warm his heart, but he failed miserably. Of course, she was likely staying for her grandmother. When she caught him watching her and smiled a bit, he convinced himself that her reason had a little to do with both.

Her constant proximity was getting to him. He wanted more than the occasional kiss from her. But worried she would think he did not respect her. One night, sitting in the parlor, his mind drifted to a game he learned on his travels but had yet to find a woman worthy of exploring it with. It was sort of a game of truth and sensuality all rolled into one. Unfortunately, the night he’d finally gathered the courage to ask her about it, she came in, eyes puffy and red. “My cousin, Vianna’s son John has just died. I have to head home.”

Oliver was on his feet immediately, gathering her hands in his. At his touch, she pressed her lips together and let the tears spill over her cheeks. A sob lurched itself into her throat. “Shh. Sweetheart, shh.” He cocooned her into his arms and rocked her. “I’ll take you. You don’t have to go alone.”

Felicity pulled back, eyes wide and watery. “Oliver…I don’t expect you to—“

“Shh. I want to be there for you. I don’t have to go in or anything. I can just drive you, get a hotel room nearby.”

A tear snaked down her cheek as she searched his eyes. “You’d really do that for me?”

He pulled her back to him, dropping a kiss in her hair. “I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”

Oliver hired two nurses to stay and watch over Felicity’s grandmother while they took the quiet roads back to Felicity’s hometown.  She, of course, invited him in to meet her cousins and seemed relieved that someone named Billy had left town to find work in the city. Oliver didn’t bother asking more about the identity of the man Felicity clearly did not want to see. He focused on making sure she felt safe and secure. Her family was a riot, and he enjoyed eating with them and discussing the world. Even during this dark time, they produced a light that the Queens had never been able to convey. Oliver wasn’t too surprised. Felicity brought light into his life like no one else.

Several days later, they returned to the estate. They spent afternoons walking in the gardens and evenings dining together as before. But this time an easy familiarity encompassed every conversation. Oliver was in heaven. He’d never felt this way about anyone before. He’d never felt so alive. But could this last? Wasn’t something so wonderful bound to end?

Then, one August night fell upon them. They sat content under the stars, reveling in the warm night in the gardens in each other's arms sprawled out on a blanket. Oliver read out loud from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Felicity began to nod off....until, Oliver put the book down and gathered her close. "I love you, Felicity. I want you to stay here with me always," he murmured this, thinking she was too close to dreamland to really take in what he was saying. But that was not the case, as Felicity sat up with a gasp and turned to him. 

"What did you say?"

"I know this has been fast, and that you think we're so different, but I want you to stay here with me..."

Felicity pushed back. "And do what? Be your bit of fun on the side?"

Oliver opened and closed his mouth. "Is that what you think I think of you?"

"What else could I ever be?" Felicity stood up. "I shouldn't have let this get this far." 

Heart in his throat, Oliver stared at her, dread filling his soul at what she might say next. "No. I want to be with you. To love you. To..."

"To what?" She folded her arms across her chest. Oliver hadn't been in a serious relationship ever in his life. He wanted her, but could he be what she needed?

"I know that you can't be with someone like me, Oliver. Not publicly."

It was Oliver's turn to stand. "That isn't what this is about."

"What is it then?"

"I just....I..." The damn words stuck in his throat. Why couldn't he get them out? What was wrong with him? "Just give me a chance."

Felicity sighed, and to his surprised, reached out to cup his cheek. "I'm not sure what kind of chance you're asking for, Oliver... Are you?"

Felicity turned and began toward the house. "Felicity..." He choked out.

To his relief she turned back to him. "I'm not leaving, Oliver. Not yet." Then she melted into the night. He saw the lights of the back parlor come on. Then not too long after, the light in her bedroom illuminate. He loved her. He wanted her to be his forever. He had to make sure that happened...if it was, in fact, what she wanted. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter after this one, and it's done! Sorry for the delay. Sorry it's so short. Hope you enjoyed it if you're following the story.


	4. An Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of this short AU period piece!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm grateful to the readers of this one. It was difficult for me to write at all, and I just wanted to give it a shot to have some type of conclusion, whether it was wonderful or not. Thank you to the few who wanted to read it til its end. Your encouragement is the only reason the story got its ending. Thank you so much. Hope you like it okay.

The next few days, found them full of companionable discontent. Oliver wanted to talk to Felicity about everything on his mind, but he didn’t want to push her away entirely, so they settled into a quiet friendship for the time being. The August days remained warm and bright, so they continued to take advantage of being outside. When Felicity’s grandmother took a temporary turn for the better, Oliver arranged a picnic occasion in the high garden for his beloved housekeeper.  Accompanied by his personal physician and Felicity, the old woman had her last day amidst splendor.  The honey suckle and jasmine tickled the senses with their sweetness. And Felicity’s laughter filled Oliver’s heart like nothing else. But a dark cloud of reality could not be ignored. The summer was ending, which might mean Felicity would return to her regular life.

When Felicity’s grandmother died one afternoon not too long after, Felicity’s tears flowed freely. “She lived her life for nothing,” Felicity had said. It hurt Oliver to think that maybe he and his family had been the cause of that if that were true. But to Oliver, Felicity’s grandmother had meant something to him, more than most people he could think of really. Felicity failed to see that or at least she failed to admit seeing it.

***

Felicity sat in her room, looking out at the beautiful town below. The Queen estate had been her home at birth, a place she’d associated with nothing she wanted to be. Coming back had been the opposite of what she’d expected. The coldness she’d remembered had been replaced with a quiet warmth she’d never really experienced. And Oliver, the man she’d expected to be nothing more than a spoiled ball of arrogance turned out to be the best man she’d honestly ever met in her adult life. He was kind and considerate, but maybe that was only because he had the luxury to do so. Would she fit into this life with him? And if so, where would she fit? As his kept woman? That was certainly not what she wanted out of her life. She heard her grandmother’s last few words for the hundredth time that day, “Give yourself a chance to love.” She’d also told her not judge by the label, but by the heart. And she loved Oliver. She had admitted that to herself weeks ago.

One day, in the office he’d let become her workspace, Oliver, just home from a long drive to clear his head about who knew what, begged Felicity to stay to help him manage the house.

“So you want me to be your housekeeper?” Felicity asked, eyes hot, pushing up from her chair and rounding the desk to stand in front of him.

Oliver’s hulking frame loomed over for a moment. “Of course not!”

Felicity stood her ground. “You’re alone, Oliver. My grandmother’s gone. Your family’s gone, and you just want me to fill that void.”

His jaw dropped, and the stung look on his face gripped Felicity's heart in a way that defied reason. She so painfully wished she could take those last few words back. “I’m sorry, Oliver.”

“You stay if you want to. I won’t force you. But I’d like it if you stayed…you can write. You can do what ever you’d like,” he started toward the door. “There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to be lonely,” he whispered then he was gone.

From that day on, Felicity wrote with a vengeance. Soon, summer fell into early autumn, and Felicity had not left. She’d tried so many times, but she couldn’t seem to make herself. She’d even packed her bags on Thursday afternoon and made it half way to the bus station only to turn back, making an excuse that the timing seemed off. So, Felicity and Oliver fell into a routine of content companionship with a side of God awful communication. She sent in her piece on Oliver to her boss and told him that she’d be staying at the estate a while longer. She’d expected him to fire her. Instead, he asked for another lifestyle piece – any topic she chose. It wasn’t often one of the reporters got an inside look. “The country’s interested in the privileged these days,” he’d said.

When she told Oliver, his mouth quirked up in a little smile, but he merely said, “Congratulations,” before heading up to bed. The tension between them grew into a permanent boil, but it was happy at the same time. Still, she knew things could not go on this way forever. They had to talk. But when?

Then one night, a wrapping sounded on the kitchen door as Felicity sat helping Oliver’s cook, Ivy with dinner.  She may have agreed to stay on for now, but she was not going to laze about if she had a free hand.  She knew it was not her money, but she definitely had designs on talking to Oliver about increasing the servants’ wages. 

Felicity answered the door, eyes latching onto a familiar young man with an unkempt beard and dull brown eyes, in a rain hat and coat.

“I found you,” the thin faced man with large blue eyes said, chest heaving from perhaps walking fast in the rain.

“Billy! You can’t be here.” Felicity said, looking back to Ivy, whose eyes went wide, obviously recalling the name Felicity had mentioned before. “I’m sorry, Ivy. Can you give us a minute?”

Ivy’s shock melted into her understanding, and she winked. “I’ve got you covered, dearie.”

“Thank you.” Felicity stepped into the rain rather than inviting Billy in.

“Why can’t I come inside? Not good enough for your billionaire’s floor?” he snipped. “I know your grandmother passed nearly two months ago. Why are you still here?”

Felicity opened and closed her mouth. No words came out. “Are you trying to hold onto her memory by staying put? Because you don’t have to do that. You can come home.”

***

Oliver opened the curtain of his bedroom to see Felicity arguing with some man under the pale moonlight. She looked distressed. The man stepped into her space. Felicity stepped back, shaking her head. The man inched closer a second time, this time slinking an arm around her. Felicity pushed back again. They argued a bit more, then to Oliver’s her shoulders seemed to slack, and she began walking with him down the garden path. With a growl, he tore from his room and down the massive staircase of his old home and into the kitchens where he found Ivy, humming to herself as if nothing were amiss.  “Ivy! Where is Miss Felicity?”

“Miss Felicity, went to fetch me some tea and coffee for the morning. We’re fresh out.”

Oliver did not bother questioning her further, and flew from the door only to find an empty courtyard. He ran down the foot path that led to the back gates and into the street, looking frantically until finally, he spotted Felicity and the strange man crossing the street into the village square.  The rain pummeled down on him as he beat toward her. But he stopped when he saw Felicity embrace the man tenderly in front of the bus depot. He watched them from a safe distance. She cupped the man's cheek, then kissed it. His heart twisted. _No._ This was what he was afraid would happen? Someone else from her past, her home, her real world would come and take her away from him. Turning on his heel, Oliver went back home, in the rain, trying to calm himself down. He had not right to her, did he? Yes, he did, damn it. He was in love with her, and he’d never in his whole life been in love.  But if she wanted someone else, if she wanted to be with someone else, he couldn’t stop her.

***

“I’m sorry, Billy,” Felicity said, dropping the hand that caressed his jaw in a comforting manner. “I can’t be with you. I-I can’t leave him.”

Billy scoffed. “You mean you can’t leave the money and all that comes with it. Who would have thought you of all people would turn into a gold-digging trollop?”

Felicity stepped back from him. “Don’t be nasty, Billy.”

His expression softened. “You’re better than this, Felicity.”

“You’re judging me because you’re hurt. You could never see me for who I am, Billy. And Oliver? He believes in me. He’s encouraging me to write what I want to write, not be at the beck and call of some newspaper manager. And I love him. I’m sorry.” She sent Billy off, and he went, having no room to argue with her adamant refusal to go with him.

Felicity walked back in the rain, smiling, surprised she felt so sure in her decision.  When she got back to the house, she was surprised to find Ivy looking so upset.

“Thank goodness. You’re here,” said Ivy.

“What happened?”

“He’s – very upset,” the cook explained. “I think you better go to him.”

Felicity nodded once as anxiety swirled up her chest. She felt the kitchens and ran through the main hall to the staircase. She climbed the steps two by two. 

When Felicity reached the top of the third floor landing, she heard crashes coming from Oliver's bedroom. Her heart drummed, signaling her that a battle may be drawing near.  Whatever it was, she was up to it. Whatever was wrong, she would fix. Then she heard a slump and panic replace her fear. She immediately knocked in the door, but there was no answer.  “Oliver? Oliver, please, open the door.”

Oliver pulled open the door, eyes raw, face weary. “You’ll be packing I assume.”

Felicity furrowed her brow. “What? What’s wrong?”

Oliver frowned, his face too pitiful for words. “I’m sorry I forced you to stay here. I should never have done that.”

Felicity folded her arms beneath her chest. “No one forces me to do anything.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I guess you got me there. You should go change. You’re soaking from the rain,” he said, reaching for her cheek before dropping his hand, seeming to think better of it.

“I want to talk. We haven’t talked really in how long? It’s kind of ridiculous considering we’ve been living under the same roof for months.”

When she stepped in the room, she saw a broken vase and lamp.  She smiled at him. “We should clean this up.”

“I’ll call Ivy,” said Oliver. “The maids have gone home by now.”

“She’s probably in bed.”

“We can do this together,” Oliver whispered with a grin. Felicity widened her eyes for a moment.

“You are going to clean?”

“There’s a first time for everything.” He held out his hand for her to take. "I know exactly where they are."

Her eyebrows shot up in a teasing gesture. "Do you now?"

They retrieved the brooms and returned to his room to clean up the evidence of his unfurled emotions.

Once they had the room back to a more suitable state, Oliver scooped Felicity up and crushed his lips to hers. Nothing had ever felt so intoxicating. Nothing so perfect. They kissed for what seemed like hours until Felicity finally tore her mouth from his to catch her breath and temper her surging emotions. He looked just as affected. “Oliver…”

Oliver cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb along her sensitive skin. “Is this…is this okay?” he asked, tears shining in his eyes. “I mean, do you want this? Do you want me?”

Felicity bit her lip and let her eyes slip shut for a moment. When she opened them, she saw Oliver waiting patiently for her answer as if his whole world depended on it. “Yes, Oliver, I do.”

To her surprise, Oliver turned and marched to the other side of the room to pull open the drawer of the small desk he had beneath his largest window. When he turned around, he held a small burgundy box made of velvet.  A sob inched its way into her throat, and she forgot to breathe. When Oliver returned to her side, he dropped down onto one knee. Felicity willed herself not to cry. No, she would not cry. With a trembling hand, he held up a ring with a small emerald at the center framed by seemingly endless rectangles of diamonds. “Felicity, I don’t know any of this happened so fast, but you’ve given me someone to count on, some to love with my whole heart. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you. You challenge me, hold me accountable, and you’re still here. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Not trusting her voice, Felicity could only nod. Oliver slipped the ring on her finger then stood up. His lips her on hers again. He lifted her off the floor yet again. She wanted to wrap her legs around him. Get so much closer to him. Here was the man she’d sworn represented everything she didn’t want, loving her like everything she actually needed.

Their passion tangled them into a knot. Clothes fell to the floor, and soon, they were both skin-to-skin on Oliver’s bed. After several moments of torrential passion, Oliver moved his body off hers as she lay there naked and chest heaving. He pressed a kiss to one cheek then the other. “You’re so beautiful, Felicity.” She felt herself flush at his words. “We don’t have to do this right now, you know?” He stroked her cheek.

“We’re already this far,” she whispered.

“But that doesn’t mean we have to take any further than this. We have our whole lives ahead of us.” He dipped his mouth to capture hers in a searing kiss. Their tongues dueled, stoking fire inside of her stroke after stroke.

“I want this, Oliver. I want you.”

She pulled him down to meet her kiss, and took him her hand, stroking the length of him. Oliver broke away, an unheeded moan escaping his lips. His forehead founds its way to her neck nuzzling there for a moment before he replaced it with his lips and began teasing her with his fingers. Then massaged her legs one and a time. He looked down at her propped on elbow.  “You’re so so beautiful, Felicity.”

“I love you, Oliver,” she said, marveling at the way his handsome face reacted in awe. Even though she’d said yes to his engagement the words seemed to move him as if he hadn’t expected to hear them so soon.

He parted her legs with one hand and brought the hand that stroked him up to his lips to kiss it. Then he slipped inside her, slick and hot, pleasure mingled with pain. “Are you okay?”

Felicity nodded. “Okay does not do this moment justice.”

Oliver chuckled. He kissed her forehead once, then twice before pulling back to look into her eyes. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said before slowly moving his hips. Their moans battled for dominance as everything around them exploded. Their bodies melted into one another and soon whipped urgently together.  The love between them could never be paralleled, that much they knew.  He continued moving in and out of her until both fell over the peak of passion, awake, alive, and home.

 

           

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are insanely kind. Comments are generous and loved. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Was this something anyone is interested in reading? Thanks! It won't be long. Like three to five chapters max. Sexy times to come soon if continuing.


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